Miss Pink Investigates- Part Four

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Miss Pink Investigates- Part Four Page 58

by Gwen Moffat


  ‘You what!’ This was too much for Sophie. ‘You really did visit with Charlie? For God’s sake, girl!’

  ‘I told you I did.’

  ‘Yes, but we never believed — we thought —’ Sophie turned on Miss Pink, dumbfounded.

  Miss Pink asked pleasantly, ‘What was it that you left behind?’

  Val’s hand went to her ear and a tiny gold hoop. ‘An ear-ring like this. Byer found it. He had a flashlight.’

  ‘He wasn’t to know it was yours.’

  ‘It didn’t matter. All he had to say was that Charlie had a lady visitor.’

  ‘And the fact that you were intimidated by that told him he’d guessed correctly. But how does your visit to the cabin relate to Charlie’s accident over a mile away, up by the escarpment?’

  Val shrugged. ‘I’m tired. We went up there. Charlie was trying to shake me off. I knew what he’d done, you see: coming between me and Jen; I lost ten years of my daughter’s life. Can you understand that? I could have killed him. I would have killed him and he knew it, and he threatened to shoot me — well, my horse — he said he’d kill my horse if I didn’t leave him alone. And I shouted at him, I flipped, and Ali spooked and reared, and Charlie’d drawn his pistol and it went off and Ali bolted.’ She stopped and her ravaged face broke into a ghastly grin.

  ‘What did you do with the pistol?’ Miss Pink asked.

  ‘I threw it away of course.’

  ‘You’re going to tell Hilton this?’

  Val studied her. ‘I’ll see if he charges Bret. Are you going to tell him?’

  ‘Of course not. It’s your business and I’m Sophie’s guest. And I’m tired too.’ Miss Pink looked apologetically towards her host. ‘I think I’ll go back to the apartment and sleep for a while. I have the spare key. You’ll stay with Val, of course.’

  Sophie nodded distractedly. It was obvious that neither cared what Miss Pink did at this moment; Sophie was intent on extracting more information from Val, and Val — Miss Pink nodded to herself as she went out to her Bronco — Val was too intent on incriminating herself to bother about anything else.

  14

  Meadow larks were singing on the road to Benefit, their breasts bright sulphur in the sun. Showers of little blue butterflies rose from drying puddles and overhead the vultures wheeled, alert for rodents washed out of flooded holes. The storm had left the world noisy and colourful, with a bonus of easy pickings for the opportunists.

  Jen had company. Sam Jardine sat beside her on a bench outside the cabin and, seeing them like that, their expressions expectant, a little wary at the sight of the Bronco, Miss Pink wondered how anyone could have thought that Sam was not the girl’s father. There were the same delicate features and wiry build; both had the aquiline nose and chiselled nostrils hinting at Indian ancestry. No one could think Jen the daughter of the blond and beefy Skinner.

  Sam was standing. ‘Nice morning, ma’am. Take a seat, enjoy the sunshine. I’ll fix some coffee.’ He stepped indoors.

  Jen was eyeing the Bronco, uncertain how to react to this visit.

  ‘I’ve been to Irving,’ Miss Pink said. ‘Talking to your mother.’

  ‘Bret?’ It was a whisper. She cleared her throat. ‘Did you see Bret?’

  ‘No. I didn’t go there to see him. The first person to clear was Val.’ Miss Pink smiled pleasantly and didn’t turn, although she hadn’t missed the other’s glance at the doorway. ‘She didn’t go to the hunting camp,’ she went on, ‘although she’s fighting like mad to convince Sophie and me that she did.’

  Jen grinned and then was serious again. ‘How do you know she wasn’t there?’

  Sam stepped out of the doorway and stood beside the bench, waiting for the answer.

  ‘Because she has no idea what was left behind,’ Miss Pink said. ‘What it was that Byer found.’

  ‘What was it?’ Sam asked, looking down at his daughter. Jen was shaking her head. He put a hand on her shoulder and regarded Miss Pink. She hadn’t sat down and they confronted each other like adversaries. ‘Jen didn’t go to the cabin,’ he said firmly. ‘So you can tell us what was left there.’

  Her mind raced. Sam? This would add a new dimension, she had never seriously considered Sam.

  The pause had been momentary. ‘Bret will have told them the truth,’ she said.

  Jen stared into the distance. She nodded as if in agreement. Sam’s hand tightened on her shoulder. She looked up quickly. ‘Charlie was fine when Bret left,’ she assured Miss Pink. ‘He figures that it was a bear frightened Ali and Charlie’s gun went off by accident. No one else was involved.’

  Miss Pink glanced at Sam to see if he knew that Charlie’s rifle hadn’t been fired, that no pistol had been found, but he was deadpan, observing her own reactions. ‘Why did Bret go to the cabin?’ she asked.

  ‘To see what Charlie wanted.’

  ‘Charlie made the arrangement with you.’

  ‘Bret wouldn’t let me go.’

  ‘What did Charlie have to say?’

  ‘Nothing really.’

  Miss Pink moved impatiently. Sam said, ‘Bret told Charlie that him and Jen were married but Charlie didn’t have much to say about that. Bret felt it wasn’t the right moment to say anything about — what Charlie had told Jen —’ He stopped in confusion.

  ‘I didn’t know then!’ Jen protested. ‘It was only afterwards… why, it was you told me only a few days back. How could I have known?’

  ‘You’d told Bret.’

  ‘Not all of it and not the worst part. That’s the point, Sam. I’d told Bret I’d gone away because I was having a baby but I never told a soul who was responsible.’ She pondered a moment and then: ‘I told him Paul was my father because that was what I thought myself, but Bret didn’t make the connection: that Paul was the baby’s daddy as well.’ Her eyes widened madly. ‘Who would? It’s wild, horrible!’ She inhaled sharply, let the breath go and went on, ‘I got used to it, though: the horror, blocked it out, I guess, over the years’ — she was addressing Miss Pink — ‘but imagine a guy like Bret learning that… He loves me, you know.’ She smiled shyly and the next moment she was grim again. ‘He’d have killed Paul. But I blamed my mom. There was no way I could take the blame myself, I’m too much of a coward.’

  ‘She couldn’t,’ Sam told Miss Pink earnestly. ‘It were too great a burden. She were only a kid.’

  ‘And as for Paul’ — Jen shrugged — ‘he wasn’t worth blaming; you have to be big to take a load like that on your shoulders. I mean, Paul wouldn’t be worthy. Now my mom was a good person to hate. I’m telling you how it was for me all those years away. I blamed Mom for letting me think that Sam was my daddy when really it was Paul, so I figured it was all her fault that he — that we — the baby, I mean; she was to blame for everything. I was so angry, I coulda killed her. My God, I was a mess! I guess it was guilt, right?’

  ‘You had to turn the rage against someone,’ Miss Pink said calmly. Alone in Texas and pregnant (and through incest, as she had been led to think) if she had turned the rage inwards she might have killed herself. As it was, she had killed… there had been an abortion, presumably. More guilt.

  Sam was watching Miss Pink. ‘It was Charlie told her Paul was her daddy,’ he said heavily.

  ‘So when you came home,’ Miss Pink said, ‘you meant to confront your grandfather —’

  ‘No! I told you: I didn’t know then! I still thought Paul was my father. I came back because — because —’

  ‘She was lonely,’ Sam put in. ‘She wanted to be with her folks again.’

  Miss Pink couldn’t hide her scepticism as she turned to the younger woman.

  ‘I’d found out I couldn’t have babies.’ Jen’s face was set. ‘Something about internal damage. The abortion was botched, they say. Actually, I don’t know why I came back. To confront Mom? Someone anyway, make them pay for everything. How I felt, it was the old ghastly mess back again, only worse, and one moment I wanted to be with my family, like Da
d says, the next I was full of hate again.’

  ‘I see.’ Miss Pink did. She saw more. Jen was to discover that the person at fault was her grandfather — but she hadn’t found that out until after Charlie died. Fortunate timing for her, but Hilton would never believe the sequence of it. ‘When did your mother learn the truth?’ she asked.

  ‘I never told her. I wouldn’t dare.’

  Sam said, ‘Now she’s scared of Val because she misjudged her so. She don’t know how to make it up to her.’

  ‘She was sweet to me yesterday, though.’ Jen’s tone was soft. ‘After the funeral, but then she doesn’t know what a bitch I’ve been.’

  ‘She knows,’ Miss Pink said. ‘And she thinks you killed Charlie.’ And after this demonstration of her feelings Jen had motive enough.

  ‘She’ll get over it.’ She was unperturbed. ‘Bret will tell the truth. He went to the cabin, told Charlie he’d seen a bear on the way down, in the rocks there above the cabin. Charlie was all set to leave, the pack-horse loaded, having a last coffee, when Bret arrived. That’s why they didn’t say much; Charlie —’

  ‘Wait a minute.’ Miss Pink stirred impatiently. ‘Charlie was expecting you to visit; why would he be leaving if you hadn’t come?’

  ‘Just that: I hadn’t come. He told Bret he’d given up on me, wanted to get through the canyon before dark. He said he’d ride out to Benefit only he had the pack-horse — and then there was the bear. I guess at that the bear had priority. If it wasn’t shot it would try to break into the cabin again. So Bret just had some coffee and they both took off: Charlie up through the meadows, Bret coming down the canyon because he didn’t want to be close by with Charlie out shooting bear.’ Jen stopped, considered and added, ‘He thought someone else was about.’

  ‘You didn’t tell me that,’ Sam exclaimed.

  ‘I forgot till now.’

  ‘Where was this?’ Miss Pink asked.

  ‘Upstream of the landslip, before he headed up that steep climb to home. But it couldn’t have been anyone, not really. How could you tell among all those tree trunks? Most likely it was a moose.’

  ‘It coulda been a poacher,’ Sam said. ‘He wouldn’t want to be seen.’

  ‘Then he’d have to leave his rig here and there was no one left a trailer that weekend.’

  ‘Unless he rode in from Ballard.’ Sam’s eyes gleamed. ‘Or from Byer’s place. It was a Saturday. Where was Byer?’

  ‘His day off,’ Miss Pink supplied, thinking that Skinner could have ridden in from Ballard.

  *

  ‘If you eliminate the family — as, of course, one does — you come down to Byer and Skinner.’ Miss Pink added aubergine to the pilaf.

  ‘What makes you so sure the family can be eliminated?’ Sophie leaned against the wall, looking tired after the long day. ‘Devil’s advocate,’ she added, ‘but I did feel that Val was protesting too much when we were at the Riverside.’

  ‘Oh, undoubtedly, but it can’t be Val or Bret; their stories are too thin.’

  ‘Everyone is speaking the truth —’

  ‘Some of them are, a framework of truth, perhaps, but much embroidered. The weft but not the warp? Byer admits he was in the canyon but stops short of saying how far he went. Val, of course, is lying; she was never at the cabin the day Charlie died —’

  ‘She’s protecting Jen.’

  ‘— and she hasn’t thought her story through. If Charlie shot himself with a pistol, where is it?’

  ‘She said she threw it away. What’s wrong with that?’

  ‘You’re taking devil’s advocacy too far. What is wrong with Charlie having a pistol is that he wasn’t wearing a gun belt. It couldn’t have come unbuckled any more than his pants belt did. Clothing gets ripped off when a rider’s dragged, but no way can a belt come undone. Besides, if Val had been at the cabin, Bret would have seen her.’

  ‘He wouldn’t say so.’

  ‘Hilton would get it out of him.’

  ‘Bret doesn’t have to have seen her anyway; they could have been at the cabin at different times.’

  ‘Unless she was hanging about, waiting…’ Miss Pink checked and frowned. ‘Someone was hanging about,’ she resumed thoughtfully.

  ‘Bret saw someone. He told the police. He figured Hilton didn’t believe him. Is that where you say his story’s thin?’

  ‘It couldn’t have been Val.’ Miss Pink was on her own tack. ‘She had to come from the opposite direction: down through the meadows, but Jen says Bret saw someone between the cabin and the landslide. It comes back to Byer — again. And Skinner? Byer preferably. Skinner has no motive… well…’

  ‘He hated Charlie: spreading all those stories about him; you pointed that out yourself.’ Miss Pink was silent, staring at her friend. ‘They’re still not saying for certain it’s a bullet track,’ Sophie went on. ‘How can anyone be sure, all the damage that was done to him?’

  ‘If he was shot, someone took a gun in there with them and that would make it premeditated.’

  ‘Not necessarily. Val carries — I mean, loads of guys carry pistols — much more convenient than a rifle. You can scare off a bear, kill a rattler… Not that I would — carry a gun, I mean, or kill snakes — but there are men would never leave camp without a gun, they wouldn’t feel dressed.’

  She was talking too much and Miss Pink hadn’t missed that reference, so quickly stifled, to Val carrying a pistol in the back country. She sighed heavily. ‘But how many people knew about Charlie?’ she mused.

  Sophie chose to misunderstand. She looked sullen. ‘All of us. It was an open secret. Edna had seen a copy of the will. And then Charlie had told Byer, who told Skinner.’

  ‘No, no.’ Miss Pink dismissed the will out of hand. ‘How many people knew that Jen had been pregnant and that Charlie told her Paul was her father?’

  ‘Nobody…’ Sophie thought back and went on slowly: ‘We didn’t know until Bret arrived that day at the homestead and demanded we hand Ali over because her father — and he meant Paul — said the stud came to Jen in Charlie’s will.’

  ‘But when did you know she left home because she was pregnant?’

  ‘Why, not until the morning Charlie left for hunting camp. You remember: he told Edna and she called me. We’d had suspicions, Val and me, but that was all it was: suspicion.’

  ‘But you didn’t tie the two threads together — Jen being pregnant and Paul being, supposedly, her father — until later, did you?’

  ‘You’re right.’ Gradually the significance dawned on Sophie and she was elated. ‘No one knew the whole truth until Charlie was dead.’

  Miss Pink shook water from sprigs of parsley. ‘Hilton would suggest they did.’

  ‘Oh Hilton! He can go to hell. We know we were all in the dark. In any case, he’s not going to find out about that business unless someone tells him and you’re not about to do that.’

  ‘Of course not.’ Miss Pink started to chop the parsley. ‘Actually, he has enough motivation with the money angle, he doesn’t need another motive. It’s odd’, she mused, pushing parsley round the chopping board, ‘how the motives accumulate: family members might equally well have murdered Charlie out of revenge as for the money. An embarras de richesses. I still can’t understand how Hilton came to release Bret.’

  ‘He was never arrested, Mel. I told you: they wanted to question him just.’

  ‘At home that would be synonymous with his being a suspect. Assisting the police with their inquiries, it’s called.’

  ‘They had nothing to charge him with. No bullet track even — not for definite — although apparently there are guys out there looking for the bullet.’

  ‘Did Hilton ask for Bret’s rifle?’

  ‘No. To test-fire it, you mean? Can they do that?’

  ‘I wouldn’t think so, without a charge. You know, you could be right and they don’t suspect him — well, not to head the list.’ Miss Pink hesitated. ‘I take it he told them the whole truth: about going to the cabin,
telling Charlie about the bear and so on?’

  ‘Yes, only he said he happened to be riding that way looking to locate the elk herd and first he glimpsed a bear, then he saw the cabin chimney was smoking so he went down to see who was there.’

  ‘Why did Charlie have a fire when he was just about to leave?’

  ‘He wouldn’t put his stove out till the last minute, it’s the only way to brew coffee when —’

  ‘Wait! Did Bret say that Charlie washed up?’

  ‘You mean did he wash?’

  ‘Did he rinse the coffee mugs? Jen said Charlie gave Bret coffee. And there’d be the pot… That’s it! That’s how Byer knew Charlie had a visitor: he did go to the cabin Sunday evening: he found a dirty coffee pot and two mugs, thought nothing of it until —’ Miss Pink stopped, staring at the chopping board.

  ‘Until what?’ Sophie prompted.

  ‘Until he reached the cabin the following morning — when we were searching — and he found the mugs and pot had been put away. I’ll bet Val got there ahead of him and rinsed them, and wouldn’t say anything because she thought Jen was the visitor. That’s Byer’s hold over her. The point is,’ she went on slowly, ‘how did she know on the morning of the search that it was imperative she remove any trace of Charlie’s visitor?’

  ‘Edna had told her about Jen’s phone call.’ Sophie’s mind was working, trying to keep up with Miss Pink’s. ‘But Byer had to know something was very wrong the previous evening if he reached the cabin. He wouldn’t think anything of two mugs and a coffee pot on the table but you forgot the pack-horse standing outside. He knew something had happened to Charlie, but he came back, called Val from his house, said he’d gone only as far as the landslip. If that’s what happened, it’s gruesome, Mel.’

  ‘He may not have the guts to kill but that doesn’t mean he wouldn’t be pleased if Charlie died. Look how he’s taken advantage of it. Perhaps he even went further than the cabin; after all, he had all day Saturday —’

  The doorbell rang. Sophie crossed the floor to admit Russell Kramer, as usual beaming good nature, as usual apologetic for calling without advance notice. He proffered a plastic bag heavy with fish but his face fell as he took in Miss Pink’s activity at the stove.

 

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